


Fuck it. Ace Attorney and Final Fantasy VII Crossover.

by IAmAHat, remiulle



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Narumitsu is shoveled in there because what's a fic distantly related to ace attorney without it, Trials, WHY DID WE WRITE THIS? BECAUSE WE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY, not funny. didn't laugh., painful, rudereno if you squint, rudereno is goodreno, this was supposed to be a bonding exercise., we gave up halfway through once the novelty disappeared, we now are no longer in contact.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmAHat/pseuds/IAmAHat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/remiulle/pseuds/remiulle
Summary: Fuck it. Ace Attorney and Final Fantasy VII Crossover.The two worlds collide in an epic saga of funky shenanigans and wacky hi-jinks. Just kidding! Endure 26 long pages in which nothing happens and plot is forced along. There are a few funny points of dialogue. Mostly because of remy.
Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is Hat's first published fic on the site. This does not reflect on their person nor their experience, so please read the following with a grain of salt. Remy, on the other hand, has many really fuckin' good fics to go check out! They have written only a couple fanfictions so far (for fandoms such as, of course, Final Fantasy (though they've yet to post anything related to it until now), and Fire Emblem), but the stuff is still pretty high quality, so go check it out if you've got the time!

“Yo, Rude, you sure about this shit? Tseng has been sending us fuckin’ everywhere, lately,” Reno exhales, placing a congenial elbow on his work partner’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” Rude states as he pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. 

“You look stupid,” Reno points out helpfully, smacking Rude in the back with his baton. 

“That hurt,” Rude swivels his shoulders to face the hotheaded Turk. “Physically, and emotionally.” 

“Uh,” Reno skips ahead of his partner, inspecting the doorknob of the dilapidated factory. “Would you say I was being…” He pauses for a brief moment, a quizzical finger on his chin… making a great deal out of pondering what to say next. 

“Reno, for the… immense amount of time that we have known each other, I honestly thought you would be finished making name puns a very long time ago.”

“Yeah, but like… I think it would be a rude offense to stop.”

“Fuck…” Rude walks forward, placing a hand on Reno’s conveniently bare chest and shoving him away from the factory entrance. 

“Personally, I think Tseng sent us here to kill us,” Reno comments before opening the creaking, metal door wide open.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Rude nods towards his partner, gesturing for him to walk ahead. 

Reno raises one kooky eyebrow, mockingly skeptical. “Scandalous,” he says, placing an ostentatious hand on his heart as he passes ahead of his friend. 

A sigh escapes from the other man(who Reno chooses to believe is holding back an extremely amused smile). Then Rude hears an eccentric “Woah!”. 

“What is it, Reno?” Rude asks into the crisp, kind-of flaky air. Rude doesn’t exactly know how to describe what the atmosphere feels like as it caresses his bald head and tickles his beard, but it feels like old paper. It also smells a tad like poison Smoggers. Not really an issue when you have the ability to punch the ground, though. 

“Wow! I think this is a fucking, uh…” Reno appears to be cross-examining a funny-looking appliance. 

“Pardon me?” Rude walks up to his side, gloved fingers stroking his petite facial hair. Taking a look for himself, he is visibly baffled. 

“Rude, I didn’t think it was  _ that _ shocking. Look, your jaw is tilted slightly downwards! You usually don’t emote  _ that  _ much!” Reno bellows in the expansive scrapyard of a factory. 

“Ah, I didn’t think you would notice,” Rude admits, BLOOSHING HARDLY UWU!...!??? before adjusting his expression back to its former impassive state. “Reno, I don’t want you touching that, honestly. I don’t trust you enough to allow contact with a weirdly suspicious piece of machinery.”

“I’m gonna touch it.”

“Come on, Reno. No, don’t.”

“It’s too late.”

“C’mon Reno, don’t.”

“It’s already in motion.” 

“Well, put it out of motion.”

Reno presses the first button he sees. Nothing really happens, except for the delicate, archaic apparatus to whisper a few sweet nothings into the partners’ abdominal regions. The machine just sputters a bit of oily shit out and it’s kind of gross. 

“Eugh,” Reno gags, stepping away from the large instrument. “I feel like it’s coming onto me.”

“You self-centered little prick. The other day you told me that you thought fucking Darkstar had the hots for you because he sniffed your butt.” 

“Hey, listen, that — that was a joke,  _ okay _ ? That was a joke, Rude. You take everything so seriously, Rude… “ Reno sighs crossly before grappling each of his arms in annoyance. Sure, it really  _ hadn’t _ been a joke the other day, but that doesn't mean that Rude has to be so… mean about it.

“Okay, so, I guess this machine is busted. You wanna go around and press some more super-suspicious totally-not-weird-or-dubious-in-any-type-of-way buttons?” Reno taps his foot, letting his sly, toothy grin return to his face.

“No. Remember why Tseng sent us here?” 

Reno pauses, scratching the back of his head and hitting his baton over his shoulder a few times. “Uh… no.”

“Are you —okay. Apparently, a couple kiddos have been setting up shop ‘round these parts, making deals with mercs or assassins and all that to take out members of Shinra. Not significant ones, but employees nonetheless. They’ve been selling information. Tseng believes that they are a party of rogue SOLDIERs 3rd-Class. Remember the cases of regular Shinra employees reporting missing? Yeah, we’re here to do our jobs, Reno, and protect the impregnability of Shinra.” The cases are beyond shocking, as Shinra typically is very tightly wound and strict with the detachment of members of the corporation. They would never allow a faction of 3rd-Class SOLDIERs to run scot-free, disbanding information to the public for sums of cash. If it was up to Rufus, he would most likely give each SOLDIER a specialized fist up the ass before providing every individual with a subsequent headshot. However, the reports had come a mere two days prior to Rude and Reno’s dispatch to the factory. The job must be taken care of, despite Rufus’s desire for a personal redress. As the now emotionally-driven President of Shinra, he couldn’t do everything, despite him wanting to. 

Rude is still filled with bashfulness in light of Reno’s foolish ignorance. It takes a brief moment for Reno to script his response. 

“Oh-ho-ho!  _ I  _ remember now!” Reno chuckles and looks back at his buddy. “But, see, you don’t think I actually  _ care _ about Shinra, do you? I wanna press some weird buttons. It’s, like, in… human nature, or something. To want to press a whole lot of buttons. You feel me, yo?” 

“I do not feel you.”

“I know you want to,” Reno states with a slightly suggestive smile and a flirty sway of the hips. 

Blinking(but Reno would never see that through his dark, sexy sunglasses), Rude turns away. He also coughs.

“Um, anyway,” Rude continues as soon as his voice returns. “You do seem to press a lot of buttons. Many of them are mine.” He turns his shoulders in the opposite direction of his coworker. The buttons on all the machines, regrettably,  _ do  _ appear quite tempting. Arguing with Reno’s logical human-nature explanation seems futile, at this point. 

“Was… was that a joke? Did you just make a  _ joke _ ?” 

“It’s not like they’re  _ that _ uncommon. Just… be more attentive, Reno.” 

“Ah, alright. But I’d rather be more attentive to these  _ epic buttons _ , dude.” Reno saunters to another shady-looking contraption. On its surface presents an elephantine, green-toned button in the shape of a square. He diverts his gaze from his crony in order to look at the button more closely. “Like, if I never press this button, I’ll never get to know what it does!”

“You… you saddle me with unnecessary feelings.” Rude shakes his head. 

“...What?”

“Ignore me; just continue getting yourself killed.”

“All right!” Reno shrugs and pushes the button.

======

Trucy Wright is an extraordinary performer. She has been told this by many people, her father included, of course. It’s not like she doesn’t know it, either. As a Gramarye decedent, it is her goal — no, her duty — to make sure each act is just as perfect and mystical as the last. It isn’t any different tonight at the Wunderbar, apart from the fact that her daddy (he was in the audience somewhere) had just gotten his badge back, and she no longer ran the risk of losing yet another father, this time due to accusations (however true) of child labor. So maybe her daddy is a lawyer and the last seven years have been pre-e-etty sketchy considering the fact that his entire goal was to get back into law. While she had been the one. Making most of the income. And he had been playing professional poker. At sketchy bars.

Well, she digresses. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice booms from the stage. From behind the curtains, the young Wright hops impatiently on her feet, gathering her bearings as she shuffles her cards once more. “Welcome to the Wunderbar!” There is a smattering of applause from various patrons, though not too many people are distracted from their drinks. “Let’s welcome our first performer of the night, Trucy Wright!” 

Bouncing onto the “stage” (more like a very broad podium), she gives a deep bow. As she rises from the position, she produces a small bouquet of flowers out of her wand (because what good magician doesn’t start off a show with a bouquet?) before tossing them into the crowd. It falls on the floor of the bar. No one was close enough to catch it. She sweats a little.

“Trucy! You buffoon! Dingus! Idiot!” Mr. Hat appears beside her, hands on hips as he chastises her ruthlessly. 

“I — I’m sorry, Mr. Hat! I forgot we weren’t busking tonight!” Trucy cries, gently hitting her own head and sticking out her tongue. “My mistake!”

“Well, it better be the last one of the night!”

The event continues to go smoothly, Trucy expertly fooling the crowd with her extraordinary sleight of hand tricks like the typical Pulling Things out of Hats Thing that Magicians Do. Since she is here every night, her tricks tend to get old, but that doesn’t mean that people are any closer to figuring out her secrets.

Magician Secrets, patented by Trucy Wright.

“And for the final act of the night,” Trucy exclaims, waving a low, sweeping hand and giving a grand gesture to the side of the stage, “I will be performing one last trick — at the pitiful expense of my brother — with the, Polly!” 

Poor thing, she grins as Apollo walks resignedly onto the stage beside her. She’d roped his unwilling ass into this, and she is going to enjoy his suffering as much as a little sister can. It wasn’t like it was his first time being her assistant, but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable, she supposed.

“Polly!” She shouts, hugging him tightly. “Polly, do you know any magic?” She asks innocently, scrunching up her face and placing an inquisitive hand on her chin.

“No,” he states bluntly. Goddamnit, Apollo.

“Sorry, what was that?” She asks again, blinking at him in Morse Code.  _ I cleaned the agency today, you better have a good excuse not to be repaying me right now _ , or something along the lines.

“Uh, no, but you could teach me,” he says a bit louder. “Like… how to split a person in half.”

Trucy grins excitedly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Now, you know as well as I do that a magician —”

“Never reveals her secrets,” recites Apollo. She smiles, though it carries a hint of malice. He shuts up, instinctively rubbing at his bracelet for some sort of support.

Turning back to the crowd, she takes another bow before pointing a finger at her brother. “I will now make —” this little imbecile of a lawyer, who does he think he is— “Apollo disappear!” This gets the attention of a couple more patrons, whose attention is brought to the obviously very pale-looking boy on stage.

“T-Truce, we never —this wasn’t what we were going to be performing—you mean it like you’re gonna splice me, right? Right?” The crowd rings with laughter. What a good comedian! she thinks to herself warmly.

“With a touch of this magic finger, Apollo will no longer be with us!”

“W-wait, what —?”

And that’s where everything goes downhill. 

As soon as Trucy pokes her brother, she realizes that… he’s actually no longer there. Sure, her smoke bomb goes off and stuff, but she no longer has a brother to shuffle awkwardly behind the curtain while Mr. Hat distracts people. Instead, she has two rather…  _ intriguing  _ men appear in his stead. 

Apollo hadn’t been kidding when he said they hadn’t practiced this; she was only going to be splitting him in half, the oldest trick in the book! But he was ruining everything so she thought a little “extra” magic would help. Nope. She just split her brother into two people. At least the crowd was impressed… 

“Wha —” a man with fiery red hair speaks, voice crackly and sputtering. “ _ Rude _ ! What the fuck!” he exclaims. Appalled at his temperament, Trucy taps him on the shoulder aggressively, a pout on her face. 

“ _ Hey _ ! No cursing! And who  _ are  _ you?” The crowd still thinks this is a part of the act, she realizes. She might as well play the part. She points an exaggeratedly accusatory finger at the two men before her. 

“We —we could ask you the same thing, little girl! Where the fuck—what  _ is  _ this place?!” the man’s funny long ponytail is whipping all over the place as he frantically tries to take in his apparent and sudden surroundings. His friend is a big bald man with some amusing little sunglasses perched on his nose. Although he is trying to be a bit more composed than his headstrong ally, his breath is very fast, unusually so, and he’s dusting off his black suit in a nervous frenzy. She wonders… if she takes his sunglasses off, are his eyes going to be popping out of his head? A laugh begins to grow in her chest, but she must be professional for the show, of course. Successfully stifling her chuckle, Trucy takes a step towards the new duo, who are now the stars of the show.

“Do I have to tell you  _ again _ ?! NO cursing!” Trucy implodes. Her smile grows as the crowd’s  _ woah _ ’s and  _ what _ ’s turn into laughter.

The bald man places a hand on the other’s shoulder, seemingly an attempt to calm his nerves. 

“Wh… what —! You—we—I—” the crazy redhead flounders once again. 

“Listen, buds,” she finally concedes, giving them a stage-whisper. Still a part of the act, she reminds herself. “We can talk about this  _ after _ the show, ‘kay?” She lowers her voice then, now making direct eye contact with the bald dude. He seemed to be more reasonable. “Because right now,” she continues, “there are a bunch of expectant people waiting for you guys to re-disappear and be replaced with Apollo. Now, let’s just be civil here, and you guys can pretend to have been two men in an Apollo-sized suit which,” Trucy begins to take notice of the redhead’s oversized suit, and how the man is already a fair ways taller than Apollo. So, the suit sizes would be a bit of an issue. She continues with, “yes, I understand, would be almost impossible considering his… small stature… but just hear me out. Play along, and it’ll be over likety-split!” Trucy’s expression brightens as she turns back to the crowd, a crowd that is honestly more enraptured with this performance than any other act she’d given (aside from her first one). “Now, Redhair! I see you have a… magic wand with you and —oh!—it seems I’ve lost mine!” She spins around, revealing a sudden absence of her magic wand. _ I’m super good at improv _ , she thinks smugly.

The bald man cracks a smile, and follows it up with a small chuckle. Trucy scrutinizes him with the most menacing face she can muster. Finally, she turns back to the crowd once more and bows before dragging the two men back off the stage.

“I can’t believe she called it a magic wand,” the bald man says with subtle amusement as the little gremlin continued to usher the two behind the curtains.

“It’s not a fuckin’ magic wand!” the other one proclaims. His voice cracks an octave higher than his typical tone. And Trucy thinks puberty hit HER hard.

“Calm down, guys! And, Mr. Redhead, this is going to be the last I tell you to stop swearing. Please?” Trucy creases her brow and frowns at the rattled man. “Now, you guys gotta tell me who you are, or else… uh… I don’t know! I’ll call the  _ police _ !” she threatens, pointing her finger at each towering man. “ _ Both _ my fathers are  _ lawyers _ , by the way!” 

“The fuck will —” the redhead begins, before being sharply interrupted by his friend.

“The girl said to stop cursing, Reno. So, stop it,” he states. Trucy isn’t sure if she sees a malicious little smirk on his face, but she believes that his tone is awfully sarcastic. She takes offense. She doesn’t want to be laughed at, honestly, and she  _ certainly _ can’t have random old guys saying the fuck word all the time around her. 

The redhead, who she supposes is named Reno(strange name… but not too out of the ordinary, she guesses. Maybe it’s a nickname… what would his full name be...? Renoald. Perfect), groans for at least four seconds. “Fine!” He exclaims.

“Okay, little girlie. You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh. Are you a demon or something? Are you —are you one of Kadaj’s _ devil children _ ?! Wait, shit, man! This—” he tugs at his friend’s sleeve before pulling out his magic wand in a defensive stance. Who the hell is Kuh-dodge?

“Please stop running your mouth, Reno. She’s a little girl. For the sake of the gods, will you shut up, for once?” the bald one clamored to get his friend to calm down. 

“My apologies, ma’am. My name is Rude — ” fits the bill —”and this is my business partner, Reno. We are both respectable stock-brokers in our division. ” Something about the way Rude straightens his back and clears his throat immediately causes Trucy to not believe his statement. She doesn’t know what she believes, but all she knows is that the typical Joe Stock-broker wouldn’t carry around that metal rod that Reno handled. 

“Okay, Rude, okay. But —you do realize we were… teleported? Right, Rude?” Reno cocks his head and peers through his work buddy’s dark glasses, and in a swift reaction, he pushes the specs up his nose even more so than they were before.

There’s a moment of silence among the three, the party of one and party of two staring each other down. It’s interrupted by a very confused and concerned, “Trucy?”

“Daddy!” Trucy immediately lights up. She runs over to hug him, pointedly ignoring the two men she had conjured up. “Was the show good?”

“Of course it was, sweetheart,” he assures her, still stealing apprehensive glances at the strangers. “But… Where is Apollo? And—who are these two?” The man in blue gives Reno and Rude each a personalized scorn.

Trucy gives a guilty grin, leaning back on her heels and whistling a little tune. This was going to take some explaining… but weirder things had happened, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make things clear: the setting of the FFVII half of the story is set after the events of Advent Children wherein Sephiroth is defeated, everyone is alive, woohoo happy ending. Everything is hunky-dory, basically. Shinra still exists, I think? I'm not too well-versed on the events surrounding Advent Children, as I may or may not have pirated it and watched it the God-awful English dub on like 360p, laughing my ass off at the whole thing. I just couldn't bear how stiff the Sephiroth remnants were, and especially Rufus. WOW HIS VOICE ACTOR WAS UHSDKFJSDLKFJASDLKFS. Idk. Just bear with me, I needed an excuse to shoehorn Cloud into this story to at least have a main character involved on the FFVII side of things. - Remy

“ _ Cloud _ _ , I understand that I don’t typically ask favors of you. I know this is… very strange, as I have so many resources at my disposal. The thing is… I want to gain your trust, am I clear? I have always had an eye for you, and I solidly give credence to the fact that to have you as a confidant of mine would be beneficial to both parties. Please, I would be eternally grateful if you did this for me. I will pay you a handsome sum of gil. I swear it—as long as it means I gain the privilege of your delicate trust. _ ”

Cloud stands with his hand on his hip, incredulous, and stubborn, nonetheless. Never would he ever see himself doing a job so strange and out-of-touch with what his regular jobs are. His mouth is slightly agape, and he takes a second to breathe, and collect his thoughts. Tseng didn’t ever come across as the type to be remorseful or repentful, but Cloud supposed that he just didn’t know him well enough. Hell, he knew the Turk to be entirely removed from his emotions. So, why he so desperately bargained for the mercenary’s trust was beyond Cloud. 

“So —” He pauses again, takes another breath. “Reno and Rude are missing? And you can’t contact them?” 

“ _ Affirmative. _ ”

‘Affirmative’? Cloud shakes his head at Tseng’s bizarre language “Okay… and they went missing at some weird factory you sent them to?”

“ _ Affirmative _ .”

Hell, why… why did he say it again… Cloud  _ almost _ bonks his temple with a fist, but he manages to restrain himself from doing so. 

“You want me to, just… go there? Now? Right now?”

“ _ That would be most ideal, sir. _ ”

“Listen, okay, if you want my trust, or… whatever, however bullshit —just call me Cloud. Okay? Okay. Sounds good. I guess I’ll make my way there, then.” 

“ _ Yes… I sent you the address of a nearby building that still has a decipherable one. If you take an immediate left, you will come across an expansive scrapyard. There are monsters, but none that may hinder you in your assignment. Continue south and you will find your destination on your right. I thank you very much… Cloud.”  _

Well, fuck. When he says it like that, it sounds creepy. Though, Tseng is probably a robot anyway.

“O…  okay. I’ll be there as fast as I can, alright? I’ll give you a call once I get there. Cya, Tseng.” Cloud flips his phone shut and shoves it into his pocket. He sighs the entire time he is making his way outside; from the confines of the upper corridors of Seventh Heaven, all the way down the stairs, and through the front door. Sighs are a good diversion from reality. He had just stopped by the bar, and had conveniently received Tseng’s  _ urgent  _ summon to action as soon as he arrived. Cloud could not comprehend why  _ he _ , of all people, a humble little delivery man who still hasn’t touched a woman in his entire life, needs to go rescue Tseng’s own rats. Why not send a couple of infantrymen? Or… Elena? Or some other worthless Turk? This is beyond Cloud’s pitiful room for knowledge, so he sighs. He mounts Fenrir, taking off with a sigh. Come on, he’s a happy person. He smiles, on, like, national… best friend day? 

_ Wait _ , Cloud panics as he revs the motorcycle to drive at a moderate speed down the winding backstreets of the district of Edge that accommodated Tifa’s bar.  _ Who’s my best friend _ ? He thinks for a moment.

_ Ohhhhh.  _ Right. He’s dead. Cool. Cool thoughts. Cloud’s a happy person. He isn’t a pussy, either, so he won’t cry on his motorbike. No way. He sighs. 

After a moment of driving and glancing at the map on his phone, as he isn’t directionally shrewd, he arrives in the scrapyards Tseng mentioned. They’re awfully open, and they appear to be filled with more old facilities and machinery than just regular junk that trash the other scrapyards he's familiar with. He catches a glance of some Wererats scuttling under a piece of old gadgetry, but he does not feel like bothering the creatures. 

Gaining his sense of direction through the epic means of his flip phone, he looks to the south. Tseng said  _ continue south and you’ll find your destination on your right.  _ It quickly dawns on Cloud that Tseng would be perfect for a voice-acting job in one of those navigation applications. After a brief intermission of entertainment, Cloud slowly drives towards the facility on the right that catches his eye. The door is wide open. 

That’s when Cloud hears an eager, but equally terrified (and rather loud) ‘hello.’

_ No way that’s Reno _ , he thinks to himself. The voice does not sound familiar in any sense — much too… boisterous. Cloud, curious, takes one of his more slender blades out of his bike(this is not saying that it is slender, really, at all). He makes his way toward the open factory door, and peers inside. 

He sees a small man, looking very out of place. He has brown hair with two noticeably large locks pushed up, almost resembling antennae. ...Unique. His build is pretty stout, and he wears a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a red suit vest and pants. His turquoise tie is a very strange, but effective complement. A golden bangle rests on his wrist, and he’s rubbing it nervously.

“Uh… hello? Who are you?” Cloud asks, sword still gripped tightly in his hand. The man is staring at his weapon as if he’s just seen an apparition or something; like he’s never seen a single weapon from the city of Midgar before. 

“Mh… my name is Apollo Justice,” Apollo states, sputtering, voice still abnormally loud, and he’s looking everywhere except Cloud. His shaking hands automatically move to his bracelet. 

“Why are you here? Have you seen two men, dressed in suits, one of them with, uh… crazy red hair? Also, lower your voice. I can hear you just fine.” Cloud gestures towards the back of his neck, drawing a long line in the air to represent Reno’s outlandish rattail. 

“I have not. I, uh…” he says(voice only slightly lower), unsure of how to speak to Cloud. It’s getting on the blond man’s nerves; he doesn’t have all day. 

“Look, man, I’m trying to do a job. I’m looking for two men, dressed in su —”

“I teleported… here…?” Apollo blurts out, interrupting Cloud’s more articulate and demanding statement. He appears just as in disbelief as Cloud is. The mercenary does not believe him, not for a second. 

“What? What do you mean you teleported here? That makes no sense,” Cloud accuses, squinting at the apparent jester. He doesn’t respond. “Where… where did you come from, then?” Cloud interrogates. 

Apollo pauses a moment, taking a deep breath and wonders what to say. A roll-back of his shoulders and a more confident posture overtakes the little man and he says: “Los Angeles.”

Cloud stares at him. 

“Pah… pardon me? What—what—what do you mean—what—where is  _ Los Angeles _ ?” Cloud spits with scorn. 

_ Apollo _ has the dignity to look shocked. 

“What do you mean you don’t—what do you mean  _ where is Los Angeles _ ?! It’s… like, what, only the  _ second largest city in America _ ? What world are you living in?” Apollo snaps back at the mercenary. He’s frantically massaging the bangle on his wrist.

Cloud shakes his head. “What the actual—” he might… he might…  _ maybe _ be beginning to believe this guy. He chooses the best conceivable option: changing the subject. 

“What’s inside of there?” Cloud gesticulates towards the interior of the ramshackle facility. Apollo glaces in the direction that Cloud pointed towards. His distressed and offended expression doesn’t say much about his knowledge of this rundown building. Cloud shakes his head before pushing past the peculiar joker. In return he gets an indignant splutter. Cloud ignores him.

His eye catches a piece of machinery that has a large, square button in the center of it. He admits… it looks tempting. He totally wants to press the button. But, he has no idea what it’s going to do, so he turns his attention back to the man in question. 

“So…” Cloud begins. “You’re telling me… you transported yourself here from some… Lost Angel-less place that you’re claiming to be from. And you… don’t know where you are? At all? No clue? Not a single clue in the whole world where you might be?”

Apollo rubs the back of his head before frowning. “Nope. No clue. Sorry.” 

“You’re in Edge, east of Midgar?” Cloud elucidates, as if speaking to a clueless child. Only a deep breath comes out of the other man’s mouth. Then, he speaks again.

“Uh… isn’t Midgar where Thor lives? Or something?” he states, flustered, but still weirdly curious. His voice has lowered but is slowly rising back up to it’s absurd volume. Cloud has no fucking idea who Thor is, and he doesn’t care. He’s forgotten why he’s even here in the first place: to do a quick job for Tseng and earn a bit of gil in the process. No shits are truly given about gaining the trust of the Turk commissioner. Cloud lifts his blade over his back and attaches it to his magnetic holster. Brushing past the tiny man, he turns his attention back to the brightly shining button.

“What do you think this button will do?” Cloud asks Apollo as the said dinky dude shrugs helplessly. 

“There appears to be a multitude of buttons that we have the ability to press,” Apollo states, finger pointing in the direction of yet another button of intrigue, “and I have no clue as to what any of them do.”

One more examination of the button hued green causes an unimaginable circumstance to pop into Cloud’s mind. Did Reno and Rude… press one of these buttons? And at the expense of their actions, it caused them to go missing? Cloud scratches the back of his head. He turns to face his newfound partner. 

“Say, Apollo… What do you do? Y’know… your job, and all,” asks the mercenary. 

“Well,” Apollo begins, once again rubbing nervously at the bracelet on his wrist(what is with that thing, anyway? It could be sold for a fortune, and it even looks capable of being blacksmithed into a useful accessory proficient at slotting materia), “I work as a lawyer — a defense attorney to be more specific. Does this place… do you guys have those things here?” He offers a slightly shaky grin, voice slowly rising to an uncomfortable volume. 

“Uhm, yes, we do. The police force is more like a military, though, and nobody really finds much time to hold trials, unless it’s a really…” Cloud gestures, searching for an ample word to describe what he was trying to say, and comes up with: “...mysterious crime.” A paused sigh breaks off his commentary. “I’m a mercenary. Just do work for other people. Nothing much to it, really.”

Apollo puts his hands on his hips and presses his lips into a line. “Well, I’ve heard stranger things,” he muses, raising one hand to tap his chin. His eyes rake the decrepit, rusting factory walls around them, and he takes a few hesitant steps further into the room. “I’ve been here for about an hour,” he finally says after a moment’s pause. “Most of that was… uh… spent panicking… but I  _ have _ gotten the chance to look around a bit.” His footsteps were loud, bolstered by their echoes off the steel planks of the floor. The attorney bites his lip in thought, glaring a hole through the button Cloud had first seen. “There are just… buttons… everywhere. I —I  pressed a couple,” he admits sheepishly, waving a hand as if to dismiss it, “but they did nothing.”

“Well,” Cloud begins, “did you press this one?” He points to the gargantuan that is the green button. 

“No,” Apollo says, straightening his posture even further. “If I’ve learned anything from working at the Wright Anything Agency, it’s to not press any giant buttons, because doing so will probably result in The Worst Thing that Could Possibly Happen.” His face blanches. “Trademarked by Trucy —and don’t scoff at me!” He stamps his foot in annoyance, huffing a bit. “If you want to press it, be my guest, because I am not touching that thing with an eighty foot pole.” 

“I’m not—” Cloud opens his mouth to make a statement, but is instead interrupted harshly by the loud ringtone of his phone. It’s an excerpt from one of his favorite songs. Barret made fun of him for it because it sounded like ‘tins and cans being banged together in order to make impossible-to-understand noise.’ Cloud takes offense to that statement. It’s sophisticated heavy metal, what can he say about it. He’s emo.

Displeasure seems to tickle his very fingertips as he accepts the call from  _ Tseng _ . Please, anybody but fucking  _ Tseng _ .

“Hello?” Cloud says with obvious exasperation, hoping that the Turk chief can take a hint. Apollo tries to be discrete in his attempts to get closer to hear the conversation.

“ _ Good afternoon, friend. _ ”

Cloud shakes down the urge to cringe.  _ Eugh _ , he sounds like a serial rapist. 

“ _ I have called to ensure that you have arrived at the supposed site of Reno and Rude’s disappearance, _ ” Tseng relays through the phone. 

“Yeah, I’m here with some guy.” Cloud looks at Apollo, whose brows are furrowed. He mouths, ‘Some guy? Really?’ before Cloud rolls his eyes promptly. “His name is Apollo… Apollo, uh—”

“Justice,” the young man supplies with a hint of chagrin.

“Apollo Justice. He claims to be a lawyer.  _ And  _ he claims to have, uh…” breaking himself off before he says anything that might cause Tseng to question his honesty, he turns around to look at his companion again.

“ _ Claims to have what? _ ” 

“Wait,” Apollo steps in before Cloud can continue. Out of sheer stress and impatience, the lawyer rips the phone out of Cloud’s hands. The blonde looks at him with offense, and even Apollo shrugs at his impulsive decision. 

“Hello? Hi. This is Apollo Justice, defense attorney from the Wright Anything Agency.” Cloud cringes at the sonority of his voice. Can this kid keep it down? He  _ almost _ feels bad for Tseng.  _ Almost _ is stretching it, though. “Is this uh… is this Miles Edgeworth speaking? I don’t know where I am. Trucy teleported me somewhere during her magic show at the Wunderbar, and I’ve been stuck here for about an hour. This man, who, albeit seems fairly kind—I’m assuming he’s an associate of yours—is telling me that I’m in some place called Edge. I really, really don’t think that’s a real place that exists.” Apollo stops to take in a long breath through his chest. He might’ve said all of that in one go. 

“ _ Sir? Uh… are you mentally unstable? _ ” says the man over the phone. 

“ _ Excuse  _ me—” as soon as the stocky lawyer pipes up in frustration, Cloud reaches for his flip phone. Apollo, unaware of Cloud’s sudden call to action, tightens his hold to a grapple. 

“Give me my phone back,” Cloud demands, although the childish tugging of his phone doesn’t line up with his tone. 

“I—I’m sorry—” Apollo says in shock, though his grip on Cloud’s phone hasn’t loosened one bit. He has to admit to himself; although he doesn’t consider himself to be very aggressive, he  _ had  _ put Apollo on edge since the moment he saw him, ‘cause, y’know, giant sword.  _ Giant _ sword. He cannot put into words how big that damn sword is. Plus, some crazy serious muscles. Nothing frighteningly big, but Cloud is almost nothing  _ but  _ muscle. A skinny dude without any fat on his bones, just raw tone and strength.

“ _ What in the _ —” is all that sputters out of the other side of the line.

Cloud plants his foot into the ground and pours all of his energy into tearing the phone out of Apollo’s great clench. The little flip phone is thrown aside and into the air. 

The entire world turns to slow-mo as Cloud and Apollo watch the small phone land smack-dab in the middle of that big, green button.


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, what if I tried to tap you again?” Trucy suggests, legs swinging off the side of the railing. The group had moved outside into the cooler air, hoping that it might clear their heads. It’s loud in the bar, especially after that performance. The magician had explained, to the best of her abilities, what had happened during the show as they shouldered their way out, but Phoenix is still being a dumbass and doesn’t understand.

“I would not suggest that, young one,” the big baldie says, giving Trucy an indecipherable stare down the nose. “He’s pretty antsy.” Rude nods assuredly towards Reno. Trucy is certainly quick to believe him, as his eyes still hadn’t shrunken since the time he and his coworker arrived at the Wunderbar. 

Reno’s tenacity is draining. His puzzled anger is almost burning out, yet, it seems to never flicker out. With a head of hair like  _ that _ , it seems impudent for his character to not be passionately provoked by everything. His open jaw finally spills out a few words, “You, yeah, you?” His wand is raised and aimed at Phoenix in a loose manner. “What’s your deal? You look suspicious.” Studying Phoenix’s less-than-fortunate getup is not making him feel any more comfortable. 

“Trucy, honey, please tell me this is some elaborate trick,” her daddy pleads doggedly for, like, the fiftieth time by now, rubbing his temples in consternation. She shoots him a blinding smile in response.

“It is! It’s called ‘ma-a-a-agic’!”

Phoenix whips out his phone and begins dialing her papa.

“Well, anyway,” Trucy turns her attention back to the two big boys. She tunes out her father’s frantic rambling. “What do you say?” She wiggles her fingers mischievously, face scrunched up in the beginnings of a smug grin. “Hoo, hoo, hoo! What will happen if I poke you? Are you guys gonna split in half, too? I guess there’s only one way to find out!” The teenager lunges herself at the two men, though Rude is able to quickly side-step and escapes from her prodding. Reno is still, paralyzed in fear, she supposes.

As soon as she taps (jabs) the cherry-haired fellow in the gut, she blinks, and all of a sudden there are three more people in front of her, not including the poor man doubled over in pain.

“Polly!” Trucy immediately brightens, tackling her brother in a hug. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that would happen!” The poor boy stands frozen in shock, jaw moving with no real, intelligible verbal noise coming out of it. Trucy chortles and taps his large forehead.

Her attention is drawn from her big brother, though, as she is greeted by a man with very blonde, very spiky hair, and another man who seems to contrast him entirely. His jet black head of long hair is a stark, and almost comical contrast to the shorter one beside him. 

The blondie’s eyes, as everyone else’s have been, are white in incredulity. In a bizarre action, he bends down to inspect the floor around him, obviously searching for something. He stumbles back, hands on his thighs, head twisting around the pavement like a meerkat’s. Before he can even react, he steps over his tailcoat and falls onto his buttocks. He brings a hand to his head and grips it securely, eyes shut in mortification. He doesn’t bother to get up just yet. 

“ _ Dear _ , Cloud. I didn’t think that  _ you _ of all people had two left feet,” derides the suited man with the long, sleek locks. 

“Excuse—” as soon as the blonde (named Cloud, for some reason) glances in the direction of his mocker, he scrambles to his feet. Scuttling back like a crab, he rams into Rude’s husk of a chest, and whips his head around to eye the brick wall that he had just collided with. This only exemplifies his shock; Trucy is scared for him, almost, because his expression has transposed to something only describable as undivided terror. 

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking at. He might as well be looking at Jesus Christ reincarnate. Trucy giggles. 

She turns an ear to Daddy’s rambling over the phone.

“Miles, you gotta believe me… No, I’m not joking… No, they hadn’t… I asked her already, she said no… I know you don’t believe in this sh— stuff, but at least hurry over so I can prove that—” her daddy does a double-take as he realizes the sudden reappearance of his employee. “Oh, nevermind, he’s back… No, I swear… Okay, see you soon, Love,” and he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Who was that?” Trucy asks, eyes wide and shining and bright and brimming with innocence.

“Papa’s coming to take us home. He said I’ve had a bit too much to drink. Honestly, I think I need a bit more.”

“Get one for me, too,” Apollo adds weakly as Phoenix walks dazedly back into the bar.

There’s a stretch of silence that lasts longer than is socially acceptable.

“Cloud? And… Tseng? What are you guys doing here?” Reno finally asks.

“I sent Cloud on a mission to find you guys after an hour of radio silence,” the pale man (Tseng) answers curtly. His brows are wrinkled and his lips are drawn tightly. “I called him again a little while later only to discover that he had found a man by the name of Apollo Justice in your wakes.” Upon hearing his name, Apollo tenses in Trucy’s grasp. “Then I heard some...  _ squabbling— _ ” Cloud shoots a blistering glare at her brother, who only sweats in response—”and now I am here.”

“You…” Cloud begins to raise a finger at Apollo, whose eyes pop out of his head. His fright shudders through his body as he tries to put as much distance between himself and the angry blonde as much as possible, even with Trucy (who is beaming in juxtaposition) being plastered to him. The blonde with  _ super _ spiky hair(more so than Daddy’s, much to her disbelief)  _ desperately  _ wants to hiss out a curse word at his offender. His senses are much more prominent than Reno’s, however, and as soon as he notices that a youth is present, he seals his lips shut. She smiles innocently.

“I could  _ also  _ pointedly raise my finger at you, Cloud. Where in the world is this?” Tseng looks around, placing his hands behind his back. Trucy is intrigued by his appearance; he has sharp, narrow eyes with an almost-linear head of black hair that travels below his shoulders. A small tilak ornaments his forehead, just above the area between his brows. He appears extremely professional, Trucy notes. She wonders if Tseng works with the two stock-brokers as well. 

“Well,” Phoenix jumps in, drawing the group’s eyes toward him. He’s just reemerged from the bar, holding two small beers in his hands. Apollo shoots a grateful look at his mentor before shimmying his arms out of Trucy’s vice grip (she may not have let onto it, but she  _ does _ get worried about her fatally incapable brother. Without him, she wouldn’t have such a dumb, unsuspecting volunteer (victim) of her magic). Phoenix opens his can before taking a swig, gulping audibly before starting again. “Well, right now we’re at the Wunderbar—more like Wunderbad, though, considering our situation—” no one laughs—”stationed in the humble city of Los Angeles, California.”

“Well.” Cloud lowers his finger, but keeps his gaze pinned on a poor, trembling Apollo, who is still locked in Trucy’s tight embrace. “If  _ he  _ hadn’t snatched my phone from me, maybe we would be able to contact someone,” he says with a hint of scorn, gesturing to his apparent friends. 

“Who are these people, anyway?” Phoenix asks with suspicious intrigue. “And I apologize on behalf of Apollo; he’s kinda a disappointment.” Apollo’s face reddens significantly as he begins spluttering indignantly. 

“We’re Turks, baby!” Reno exclaimed. Both Rude and Tseng, without hesitation, shoot him a glare. “Not him,” he jabs a thumb at Cloud, “bu-u-ut...” the red haired man shrugs before methodically tapping his shoulder with his… wand. His magic wand. “And, nah, man, I can tell. He’s kinda got nothing goin’ on there, yo.” Reno smiles ruefully at the smaller lawyer, expression dripping with faux remorse. The magician’s brother scowls.

“I’m RIGHT HERE.” Apollo booms, making Trucy’s ears ring. No one pays him any mind. He flounders under her grip like a fish out of water. 

“Well, that was quite ill-mannered of you,” states Rude pointedly, purposefully ignoring Reno’s exasperated huff and the sound of Red Man’s sigh and malicious ramblings such as, 

“Thank you! At least SOMEONE HERE is going to show me ANY FORM of HUMAN DECENCY!” and “Even when I’m OUT OF COURT I’m STILL getting HARASSED by flamboyant guys!” and “Even if said flamboyant guys are REALLY HOT it DOESN’T MATTER ‘cause it’s STILL OFFENSIVE!” etc.

Trucy finally releases her poor brother solely for the sake of her own ears, his Chords of Steel making her question if she’s going to go deaf prematurely. He’s still fuming, but he maintains just enough sense not to launch himself at the man with a ginormous sword  _ and _ the dude with the cool magic wand. She pats him on the back (condescendingly) consolingly as he glares daggers at the street. Probably waiting for Papa, she muses.

Speak of the devil, there his car comes, as bright and flashy as always, swerving into the parking lot. Phoenix instantly brightens up, dragging his kids toward their way home.

“Oops, gotta blast! It was nice meeting you guys!” Phoenix calls over his shoulder. When he turns away he breaks into a sprint. “Miles!”

Papa steps out of the car, face set in a stoney expression as his husband throws himself upon the poor man, Trucy quick on his heels. Papa stumbles a bit under the sudden surge of people throwing themselves at him. 

“Phoenix… what the hell happened?” He asks, gently replacing his husband with his daughter. Apollo joins the gathering a bit slower. Cloud, Rude, and Tseng shoot them withering glares, so Trucy retorts by sticking her tongue out at them. Reno, the only one detached from scorn, smiles at Rude, before returning her expression with a stuck-out tongue of his own. Trucy waves at him, and Reno, beginning to overcome his hotheaded outburst of anger, exuberantly waves back. She laughs. Miles, completely removed from all previous interactions, pats Trucy’s head. “Sweetie, I don’t know if you should be so friendly with strangers,” he says to her. She shakes her head. 

“They seem nice. They’re stock-brokers… or so they claim.” She narrows her eyes at Reno once more. The casually suited redhead nods at her for a moment, before he displays his wand in front of himself. What she sees is fascinating: a section of the contraption is shifted upwards to reveal sparks of blue electricity flashing underneath. It takes only a second for Trucy’s face to light up in enchantment! It really  _ is  _ a magic wand! 

Turning her head up to Papa for approval is not the most triumphant course of action, for his face is distilled in fear. 

“Phoenix, who in God’s name are these folk? I swear, that man looks like he’s holding a weapon. A taser of some sort. And not to mention the other’s  _ enormous sword _ ?” When Daddy doesn’t answer him still, Papa redirects his glare toward the other group. “I apologize for… whatever trouble my family caused you. I assure you they meant no harm, even if they—” 

“I believe that, if you indeed are her parents, you should be much more in control of her actions. You cannot simply have children and allow them to run along by their lonesome. Adolescence is precarious,” Tseng spits, nose scrunched in distaste. He has never taken a liking to children. Though, one of Cloud’s wounded gazes assures her that the spiky-haired blonde is going to get along with Trucy quite alright. He must be fond of children if he can so openly take offense to a statement like that. Immediately, Trucy labels Cloud as her favorite. 

“She’s not some pet,” Papa explains carefully, clearly barely holding onto his temper. “Trucy is her own person. Do not insinuate I must command her to do something for her to stay in line.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply. “However, Trucy, you should know better than to—” 

As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the sound of a gunshot rings out in the sultry parking lot, and it is followed by a sharp scream.


	4. Chapter 4

Being behind the detention center’s cell walls is nothing short of airless and despicable. Trucy releases an exaggerated groan, throwing her body against the wall in an obtrusive fashion. The place brings back bad memories, but at least she knows now she’s not alone. In the cells beside her are a panicking Apollo and a seething Papa. Across the way is Daddy, who looks more like a hobo than usual (though lately, after receiving his badge once more, he’d been dressing nicely more often, but only for court proceedings). 

Them being behind bars wasn’t even the most mystifying part of the case. Somehow, the people with the  _ actual weapons _ weren’t detained.

On the other side of the glass sits Cloud and Tseng, the former wearing her Daddy’s defense attorney badge, claiming to have picked it up after it fell on the parking lot pavement. Conveniently.

Tseng’s impassive stare cuts through her, and she feels less at ease than she would have preferred.

“You want us to… what?” Cloud practically sneers, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“Get us acquitted!” Trucy sends a blinding smile their way.

“We are not lawyers— won’t the court be able to tell?!”

“Not if you have that super cool and fashionable badge on ya!”

Cloud slumps, defeated. She can practically sense his brain cells disintegrating. Her smile only widens.

“It’s just like mercenary work,” Trucy chirps, dancing over to the glass and dropping her head into her hands. “You do what we need you to do, and you get money!—or, er, you get to go back home! By the way…” Trucy feels a trickle of nervousness begin to trickle down her spine. “Where are Rude and Reno?”

“They have my prosecutor’s badge,” comes the lamenting sigh of Papa next door. 

“How did they get that?!”

“Plot convenience.”

Trucy feels her blood run cold. Nothing scares her. Nothing except plot convenience and two questionable and suspicious men with access to a prosecutor’s badge and a taste for vengeance. As if on cue, some guards come around the corner, escorting in the two said angry men. Reno’s swift, friendly, long-distance exchange seemed to have meant nothing, as he is now on edge yet again. It seems he is more fidgety than furious, but Trucy can’t help but feel intimidated. The work partners give her a glance, and a shudder passes through her body. 

Cloud and Tseng exchange glances before excusing themselves from Trucy’s presence. 

“All right! Listen here, you little scamp!” Reno scowls, flashing the new badge on his suit? Coat? Thing? It scares Trucy a little. Maybe he’s bipolar. “We’re gonna get you guys all sent to jail. You are gonna go to jail,  _ and _ you’re gonna send us back home, a’ight?” 

“Do not speak to her like that,” Papa mutters darkly. 

“Now, tell us,” Reno snaps, “what the  _ hell _ did you see at the time of the shooting?”

Trucy gulps before relaying the same information she gave the defense team. “We didn’t do it!” She adds at the end, a tad desperately. “You were with us! You saw that we had nothing to do with the shooting!”

“How do we know that for  _ sure _ ? You’re a magician, right? You probably conspired… something with your associates, and now look at where we are!”

Trucy’s fear melted away into anger. “Go fuck yourselves! Maybe I just won’t send you guys home after all!”

“Settle down,” Rude finally speaks up, placing his hand on his partner’s shoulder once again. “We’re going to figure out what happened, and hopefully that means getting all of you out safely. Reno’s just a little pissed right now, that’s all. Tomorrow we’ll get to the bottom of this.” They go in rounds, questioning each of the suspects individually.

Then they leave.

And it’s quiet.

======

“I have no idea how being a lawyer works,” Cloud admits as he and Tseng walk behind the defense’s bench.

“Do not worry.” Tseng smooths down the front of his suit and continues. “I have read many a book on how it works. In fact, why don’t I just wear the badge—”

Some feral instinct erupts in Cloud as he snatches the badge away from the other man’s hands. “No.”

The other side of the courtroom is equally as put together.

“I have no idea how being a prosecutor works,” Reno admits as he and Rude saunter behind the prosecutor’s bench.

“That’s too bad, huh,” Rude mourns for him.

The courthouse is filled with the sound of shuffling and empty chatter as onlookers file into the stands. The judge emerges, shuffling to his seat. He looks about dead on his feet; dark circles color his eyes. After a few more seconds pass, he apparently remembers his position and haphazardly bangs his gavel a couple of times to silence the crowd.

“U—uh, order,” he slurs, squinting at the two sides. “Prosecution and defense… is that you, Miles—er—Mr. Edgeworth and Phoenix? Are you ready to give your opening statement?”

“Yessir,” Reno exclaims. He isn’t Miles Edgeworth, but that doesn’t mean he can’t pretend.

“Th—”

“The defense is also ready, sir,” Cloud announces, cutting off Tseng.

“The defendants have been charged with the accusations of carrying out the deliberated murder of the victim, Duhm Bass,” the rattailed man elucidates, smoothing down the front of his shirt and fixing the defense with a glare. “Today we will prove your clients guilty, with no room for negotiation. In fact, the prosecution would like to call in its first witness,” Reno further instructs. “Not that we need one, because,  _ well, _ ” he scoffs, as if expecting the whole courtroom to understand what he’s referring to. 

“Yes?” the judges continues on. 

“Obviously, everyone should know whodunnit.” Reno smirks at Rude, and his coworker, still concealed by his dark glasses, shakes his head abashedly. “Anyway, his name is Jerome Barton. He was there while the murder transpired. Please welcome the witness to the stand.”

A pale man donning a haphazardly-shaved beard stumbles his way into the courtroom, glaring at the bystanders in the gallery. He’s holding a baseball bat in his left hand, swinging it absentmindedly against his thigh. Tseng and Cloud fix their gazes on him as he takes his place awkwardly behind the podium.

“Mr. Barton claims that he saw a young woman in a magician’s hat exiting in a rush after the show ended, bustling along with two other older men with her. He had been watching the show she was putting on, enjoying it fully. The next thing he knew, he had to go, and after bidding his friends adieu, he exited toward the parking lot. Walking toward his car, he stumbled upon the crime scene and immediately called the police.”

The defense shared uneasy glances as Reno finished his recount.

“We would like to hear the witness’s testimony from his own mouth, Mr. Si —Mr. Edgeworth,” Tseng argues evenly, flinching ever-so-slightly as Cloud kicks him in the shin.

“ _ I’m _ the one with the attorney’s badge,” Cloud mutters.

Reno grins politely. “Of course. Mr. Barton, would you, please…?”

The spindly man nodded, sweat forming on his forehead. “Y-yes… s-so I was drinking at the bar, and—”

“Objection!” Cloud slams his hands on the defense podium. “Which bar,  _ exactly _ , were you drinking at?” 

“T-the Wunderbar, sir,” he states, though it sounds more like a question. “Obviously.”

“Idiot,” Tseng mutters, shaking his head at Cloud.

“Please, Mr. Stri— Mr. Wright, abstain from pestering the witness over useless details,” Rude speaks up, coughing into his hand as all eyes train toward him. “Uh, well, please continue.”

“Right, so, I was drinking at the  _ Wunderbar _ ,” Jerome enunciates clearly, glaring at the defense, “watching Trucy’s performance— she’s the girl with the magician’s hat. She performs there almost every night. She has for… what, years now?” He pauses for a moment, lost in thought, before returning his attention back to the court. “So I watched as she pushed two men behind the curtains after the performance. I didn’t think anything of it, though I did wonder where her original accomplice went. I exited the bar soon after, and around the corner I heard a gunshot—”

“Hold it,” Tseng called, gaze resting easily on the suddenly very nervous man. “Mr. Edgeworth claimed that you had watched the murder with your own eyes; in fact, he said you had ‘stumbled upon it’. Is this true?”

“O-oh, yes! Of course,” Jerome stuttered, wringing his hands together. “Sorry, things get a little fuzzy when under so much pressure.”

“Would you please amend your testimony, then?”

“Ah, yes… so I turned the corner and there I saw it— the dude with the weird, pointy hair shooting the victim at point blank with a gun. I think his name was Apollo? Well, anyway, he saw me and ran away, toward the weird group of people Trucy had been with. Then another car turned into the parking lot to provide an escape for the evil-doers!”

“When exactly did you call the police, Mr. Barton?” Cloud asks.

“Right when I saw the kid shoot the guy, sir.”

“That’s not true at all,” hisses Cloud to Tseng. His partner only narrows his eyes in thought.

“Right, well, that will be enough testimony for now,” Reno interrupts hastily, though he seems to be on edge. “We shall call in our next witness, the apparent murderer himself, Apollo Justice.”

The lad walked in proudly, head high. He shoots Jerome a nasty glare before settling himself behind the witness’s bench. “My name is Apollo Justice, defense attorney working to establish the Kurah-in justice system. I recently came back into the states for a visit and to say hello to my family.” His voice carries clearly through the courtroom, his loud voice at last not feeling out of place. “May I begin my testimony on what  _ really  _ happened?”

A little bit shocked if not appalled, Reno nods.

“I was called upon by Trucy Wright to act as her assistant in one of her magic shows. I agreed, although begrudgingly, and I participated in her magic act. My sister, being magic, teleported me outside of the bar, and it took me a while to find my way back.” At this, he rubbed his bracelet a bit nervously.

“If I may, Justice?” Cloud intervenes with a slight cough. “Where were you teleported, and how long did it take you to return?”

“I was teleported a couple miles away,” he lies, daring the alien people to intervene. They don’t. “I got back by bus, but all-in-all it took about an hour. When I got back, Phoenix called his husband to pick us up, claiming it was best for all of us to go home after that adventure. As we were piling into the car, we heard a gunshot coming from the parking lot. I never saw what happened, though when we rushed to see what had happened, I saw a tall, spindly, pale figure with a gun standing over the dead body. In fact, that figure has a striking resemblance to Mr. Barton!”

The court erupted into restless chatter as the judge banged his gavel, bringing back order.

Reno stares dumbfoundedly at Apollo, glancing between him and the crowd. “Y-you’re saying you didn’t kill him?”

“Obviously!” Apollo snaps, gaze heated.

“Oh.”

“Prosecution, what is this about?”

“I legit thought he did it, my bad,” Reno shrugs, tapping his baton against the stand. “He had been standing over the dead body and I was like ‘uh oh, whoops this dude I just met killed someone!’ And then this dude named Miles dropped a really shiny thing and, y’know, I will always take any opportunity for getting gil. Then security came—but, not dressed in typical Shinra uniform, which I thought was very strange—started arresting everyone and I was already really confused because I had just been teleported here by a strange little girl. I thought she helped kill someone. Huh. Well, I guess we can go now.”

As Rude and Reno exit the court, Cloud and Tseng share a look before following them out.

As soon as the doors close on the courtroom, chaos immediately ensues.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days later and the general public settles down, and the real murderer gets detained, though the legal world is thrown into a mass conspiratorial mess. Headlines always include something mentioning the mysterious new arrivals associating with the famous WAA. In the meantime, the group has been trying to figure out how to return them back to their world.

“Poke. Poke. Poke,” Trucy recites, jabbing Reno in the arm with each repetition of the mantra. “Maybe it’ll work this time. Poke. Nope.” Apollo and Rude sit in a corner opposite to them, deep in some kind of discussion. The young magician hears snippets from the animated conversation, something about “energy” and “mako”. The name “Kuh-dodge” is even brought up again. In the kitchen, her fathers are debating with Cloud and Tseng about something, though the screaming match (mostly between Cloud and her daddy) that ensues isn’t new whatsoever. They argue over almost anything. She’s thankful that Papa and Tseng aren’t as violent. They drink tea together sometimes in the evenings while the other two get close to having a fist-fight in the middle of the living room.

Reno is actually really nice, if not a bit impulsive and hotheaded. He puts up with her pestering, and he encourages her mock-performances she holds as practice. Sometimes, he even assists with her performances, offering his faithfully-named Electro-Mag Rod(previously referred to as the ‘magic wand’) to be exhibited. This leads to Trucy uncovering Reno’s true potential as a magician, because he also has the gifted mastery of super-speed! She isn’t entirely sure if he can go as fast as she wants him to, but he can still zip around the borders of the office at speeds unreachable by regular humans. 

“Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Po—”

“Trucy, sweetie, please stop annoying our guests,” Papa requests as he steps into the room. She smiles at him with a tiny bit of malice.

“Can Daddy and Cloud please be quiet in there?”

“I’ve already asked them to shut up. I was hoping you would be a bit more considerate than your father.”

“S’all good,” Reno grins, “I’m not too bothered. It’s what you get from being a middle child.”

“If you encourage her behavior, I can assure you she will not stop.”

“Can I get your number, Reno?” She asks abruptly, completely ignoring her father’s request. “Just in case I actually send you back with one of these pokes.” Papa stares in horror as she exchanges numbers with the red haired man. Unable to stop her, he trudges back to the kitchen in another attempt to hold his husband back.

“... and it’s _obviously_ super illegal to be toting that huge thing around!” Miles enters as Phoenix points animatedly at the large sword leaning against the kitchen’s threshold. 

“I don’t see the issue, and to be honest, I don’t know what society _you’re_ living in, but the fact that I have seen absolutely no weapons on anybody ensures that you aren’t living in safe conditions.”

“ _Safe conditions?_ ” Phoenix ejaculates, throwing his arms into the air and scoffing. Miles settles back in his seat across from Tseng, the two watching the argument transpire with mild amusement. “What kind of safe conditions require a massive, MASSIVE, blade to be at your disposal? That weapon could be taken from you at any time and used in contradiction to your original intent for being armed. Your logic is irreconcilable, Cloud. Someone like you, who obviously cares for people just as much as I do, should know better than to carelessly have that mammoth sword equipped.” Phoenix crosses his arms tightly against his chest, staring down Cloud, and awaiting his answer. 

“Maybe you should learn to be strong enough to protect your daughter,” Cloud hisses at Phoenix. The lawyer’s face darkens as he seethes with anger. Even Miles tenses from his spot, quickly standing up to interject.

“I can assure you, Strife,” Miles begins, stepping forward. “Phoenix does everything in his power to make sure our daughter is safe, happy, and healthy. I don’t know what gave you the inkling of the idea that my husband, who, mind you, adopted Trucy in order to save her from a life all alone, is incapable of protecting her. Her real father went missing, so Phoenix has, indeed, provided a stable enough life for the girl. His tenacity in supporting and loving Trucy is more than enough to label him as ‘strong,’ thank you very much.” Phoenix shoots him a grateful glance.

It takes a brief moment for Cloud to process the information delivered to him so aggressively. He opens his mouth after glancing away from the couple for a moment. He locks his gaze onto Phoenix’s and asks with outright bewilderment: “Wait, so you guys don’t have monsters?”

Miles removes his glasses before placing his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose, massaging it in an attempt to search for a response. “Well, if you could refer to the corrupt police system and grossly biased court system as ‘monsters,’ then you _could_ —” 

“Miles, please,” Phoenix begs after placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think he’s referring to those types of metaphorical monsters.”

“Is nothing dangerous in your world? Is there no reason for you to carry around a weapon at all times? Do your children not know to _never_ put their hands on a weapon, or are they that careless?” Cloud shakes his head. “Children have more sense than that; you folk must be raising them very wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way we raised our child! Don’t you see it in their nature, for them to have unrestrained urges to touch and inspect every little thing that piques their curiosity?” 

“They shouldn’t, if you teach them at a young age.”

“Your expectations for the IQ of the average child are hilarious.”

“Listen, there is absolutely nothing hazardous, in my mind, about carrying around a big sword like that. It’s doing service for the public, because the chances that the military will actually show up to a disaster is slim to none. If nobody can look out for others, I’ll certainly be the one to do it.”

Phoenix turns his head to look at his husband. The gray-haired lawyer takes it upon himself to respond. 

“The fact that the military is placed in charge of civilian disasters is quite disconcerting. I have never heard of an occurrence like that. Do you not have a police force?” 

“The ‘police’ force is actually more simply alluded to in the branches of the Shinra Public Security Division,” Tseng interjects, standing up, and taking a stance beside Cloud. After he tightens his gloves, he rubs a thumb along the tilak ornamenting his forehead. As if upon reflex, Miles straightens his jabot and suit jacket. Tseng glares back at him as he secures his tie tighter around his neck, as Miles subsequently mimes choking him with his own tie. The action causes the whites of Tseng’s eyes to grow wider, but he tightens the section of hair pulled back around his head, coughing and looking away. Miles tips his chin slightly upward, stroking the hair on the back of his skull, and giving Tseng one final scowl. 

Fuming and unable to take anymore of the bullshit going on around him, Phoenix exits the kitchen, searching for reassurance from his daughter.

“Poke. Poke. Po— hey, Daddy!— Poke. P—” and suddenly, Reno’s gone. No one comes to take his place. He’s back to his world, she assumes. Whipping out her phone, she texts him.

  
  


Truce: R u back :)?

Reno: Yep B)

Truce: Sweet, every1 will be on their way now

  
  


“Hey, Rude!” She jumps from her seat and barrels into the burly man, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I hope you guys finished your conversations! Buh-bye!” With a poke of a finger, Rude has also vanished. Phoenix watches, dumbfounded, as his daughter streaks by him into the kitchen, tapping an equally flustered Cloud who promptly vanishes. Tseng flinches slightly at her approach, but soon enough, he, too, is gone.

A sudden, stunned silence fills the agency. No one moves for about a minute, wondering if it truly is all over. Even you, dear reader, wondering if it’s over now. It is. Thank fucking god. It’s now over. Life goes back to normal, and everybody forgets about the incident. Reno and Trucy stay in contact, but it’s only for stupid shit like sending dumb memes. It’s over now. Go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want actual content, go check out Remy's account :))) if you want some good Narumitsu recommendations, check out my bookmarks :heart_eyes: -Hat
> 
> Hi hello hello ffvii folk... hope this was a fun read. If anyone's interested, I'm working on an epic zakkura fic; keep yo eyes peeled for that! B) - Remy
> 
> Really, honestly, thank you for reading. We may or may not have poured our hearts and souls(and sanity) into this fanfiction for the past week, but it was truly a blast to write. No matter how much Hat tries to write it off as awful... it's kind of amazing. I hope there's a handful of people who will actually be excited about this crossover, but either way, our gratitude goes out to you, reader! We hope that you have a fantastic rest of your day/night. If you enjoyed, give us a kudos, or even a comment! At least one of us will respond to it. 
> 
> Thanks again! Rem and Hat out


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